


Secure the Blessings

by Niki



Category: National Treasure (2004)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Minor Character Death, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niki/pseuds/Niki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Ben and Ian worked together during the movie?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secure the Blessings

  
[](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/01Header_zpsae1ed719.jpg.html)

_"--we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor."  
from the Declaration of Independence_

One might say I am obsessed. It's a family thing. For me it began in 1974 when my grandfather told me the family legend of a lost treasure and the clue we had been entrusted with. For my family it began in 1832 when my great-great-great-great-grandfather was told about "Charlotte," and the Templar treasure by Charles Carroll on the yard of the White House.

Boy's mind is easy to captivate with stories about lost treasures, and I developed an interest for history that amazed and frustrated my teachers because it overwhelmed me to the exclusion of other subjects.

A boy's mind... but I kept my interest to my manhood. Some people I alienated because of it. My father, my childhood friends, most girls I ever dated... but some I met and kept because of it.

I needed help with technology, and someone found me Riley. We... clicked. Maybe united in our respective geekiness, as he put it, I don't know. But he stayed. 

Then there's Ian Howe. And he's something else entirely.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/02kuvitus_zps7df9576a.jpg.html)

I first met him in a suit, over a desk, as an imposing business man. I had heard he invested on unorthodox ventures, and mine was one if anything.

We continued our meeting over lunch (he paid, and I was in no position to say no to a free lunch, even had I not liked the man, which I did) and dinner and a nightcap. He seemed to actually be interested in what I explained, and I was never short of words when presented with a captive audience. 

He did not treat me like a half-wit dreamer, and he asked intelligent questions. By the end of the lunch I knew I would be financed and by the end of the dinner we were so engrossed in our plans that I knew I had a partner, and not just a faceless financier. 

I reminded him that it would be expensive, and the pay-off was uncertain. I felt idiotic telling a business man that but I didn't want him to... be disappointed. He asked me whether I played poker. 

"You have to put money on the pot even before you see your cards. Then when you see them, it is up to you to decide whether they are good enough to invest more money in. Business is quite like poker in that sense. The trick is to know when to fold and when to bet."

So he paid his blind and gambled on me.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide1_zps719893a3.jpg.html)

I've never had much friends. I never fitted in with the partying students. In the university it was easier to find people interested in the same things as me, but even there I failed to fit in. That obsession thing again.

Ian never got tired of listening to me go on for hours about some theory or interpretation. And he taught me to play poker. I wasn't very good at it. He taught me that it wasn't as much about bluffing as I had always thought but reading people. Learning to play their cards instead of your own. 

Maybe I should be concerned about my failure to read him. I seemed to be an open book to him. This worried me for reasons other than the game.

I never stayed long with the women I thought I loved. I'm not much into picking up people in bars but I am a man with man's needs. Occasionally, I notice men as well as women. Okay, a lot. 

Being a history student this posed less problems to me as it might have to another teenager. With the examples from other times, other cultures, I could treat it in a broader context. Not that I wanted it to get out. I knew I would be an odd bird as it is because of my beliefs and theories about the Templars and their role in history, I did not want to give people extra ammunition.

Then Ian walked into my life. With his raggedly handsome looks and raw masculinity only barely hidden by the tailored suit... friendship wasn't the only thing in my mind. And if he could read me like a book, would he read my desire as well? Manly men such as him do not react well to geeks who fall for them. 

I soon learned that he was more at home out of the suits, his longish hair released from its clasp, and in the company of his... assistants, who were what one might call 'common men' as opposed to the educated and polished air that he presented to the world. I could never quite understand where he got that wild bunch we travelled with on our escapades. 

Until _Charlotte_.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide1_zps719893a3.jpg.html)

The clue that had baffled my ancestors. The name. It was a ship, I was sure of it. And I knew where to find her.

It is amazing what money can get you. We had gear, transportation, and men used to hard dirty work. The men Ian was so at home with. The men we played poker with. Riley was there, too, but seldom joined in the game. He couldn't understand my willingness to be humiliated time after time, as he put it, and the fact that had we played for money I would have owed Ian my first-born child by the time we reached our destination.

I don't think Riley had slept well in the ship as he was being geekier than usual in the last part of our journey. I was just glad we didn't need to do it with dog sledges.

"Assuming Ben's theory's correct and my tracking model accurate we should be getting very close. But don't go by me, I broke a shoe lace this morning," Riley said. 

I turned my head just to see Ian doing the same on other side of him, first staring at Riley incredulously, then meeting my eyes.

"It's... it's a bad omen," Riley explained, as if it was common knowledge.

"Shall we turn around and go home?" Ian asked, politely.

"Or we could pull over and just throw him out here," I suggested, and was rewarded with a beautiful grin from Ian.

Riley was not happy as we laughed. Poor Riley. We had become friends quickly but... it was just so much fun needling him.

Then all my thoughts were interrupted because we had reached the site.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide1_zps719893a3.jpg.html)

She was there, and she was beautiful. I sat down with Ian, prior to going in, and thanked him for enabling this moment. Had I not met him two years before, had he not believed in the treasure – in me.... I don't think I'd ever have gotten that far.

He didn't share my view.

"You would have found it," he said with confidence. "That's why I didn't think it was as crazy an investment as everyone says."

"I'm just relieved I'm not as crazy as everyone says. Or said my dad was. Or my granddad. Or my great-granddad."

I admit to certain amount of giddiness at having been proven right, and Ian's indulgent smile at the face of it was beatific. He was glad that I was glad, he was happy that I was happy. He rejoiced on the fact I had be proven right, for its sake alone, not because of the pay-off somewhere in the future. At least that's what I believed but like I've said, I never could read him right when he had his game face on.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Kuvitus02_zps3c82e164.jpg.html)

We found a pipe. Yes, the kind you smoke. It was filled with symbols and strange markings that proved to be writing. After a quick brainstorming session we came to the conclusion the new clues referred to the Declaration of Independence. Great. Hidden message in the original manuscript. With my reputation, I was sure they'd be _more_ than happy to let me take a look.

"We have to arrange a way to examine it," Ian said, sitting down next to me.

"This is one of the most important documents in history. They're not just gonna let us waltz in there and run chemical tests on it," I reminded him.

"Then what do you propose we do?" he asked, and I snapped.

"I don't know!"

"We could borrow it," he suggested.

"Steal it?" I asked, and he just looked at me. "I don't think so."

"Ben... the treasure of the Knights Templar is the treasure of all treasures."

"Oh, I didn't know that. Really?" The sarcasm was dripping off my tongue as I took out my frustration and disappointment out on him.

"Look, Ben..." he said patiently, luckily not affected by my tone. "I understand your bitterness, I really do. You've spent your entire life searching for this treasure only to have the respected historical community treat you and your family with mockery and contempt. You should be able to rub this treasure in their arrogant faces, and I want you to have a chance to do that."

"How?" 

"We all have our areas of expertise. You don't think mine are limited to writing cheques, do you?"  
He let out a little awkward laugh. "In another life... I arranged a number of operations of... questionable legality."

I looked at him incredulously and Shaw moved closer to us, as a show of support to his boss. I got up, and took a few steps away from them, towards Riley.

"Ian... we can't steal the Declaration if Independence," I said, decisively. 

"Borrow it," he corrected, smiling, and I just blinked.

"Have you any idea what you are saying! We can't do that!"

"So, what, after all these years you are willing to ignore the next clue, and go home to go on with your life? What happened to the man who was willing to do anything, face anyone, survive any amount of ridicule and hardships to reach his goal?"

"But... the Declaration! That's a symbol! A national treasure! Not to mention, it's illegal!"

"Correct me if I'm wrong but wasn't writing that document an act of treason against the British crown?"

I taught him that. One night when discussing history and fighting for what you believe in, I explained to him what those men risked, drafting that document. And now the bastard was using it against me. 

"But that was for the greater good! They knew it was better for the people to be free from..."

"So, let's say you find out someone was about to steal the document, and the only way to protect it from these unscrupulous creatures was to steal it yourself before they could...?"

"Well, in that insane hypothetical situation, yes, I suppose I would do anything in my power to prevent it."

"Even though you would be breaking the law?"

"Well, I mean..."

"Yes or no?"

"Yes!" 

Everyone else seemed content to follow our intense conversation from the background.

"So even your morality is flexible, depending on the proper motivation." There was no triumph in his voice, just enough feeling to force me think, actually _think_ about his words and the implication.

"So it would seem," I replied. "But as there is no such unscrupulous ploy in existence..."

"I could arrange for it," he said, grinning, then turned serious again. "Ask yourself this, then. Why are you searching this treasure? To prove your theory? To prove your grandfather right? For the monetary value of the treasure?"

"No!"

"No. You search it for the knowledge. For the unaccountable historical value it potentially possesses. Now you need to consider this. Is one historical document, valuable as it is to one nation as a symbol, more important, more valuable, than the chance of discovering something even more valuable to more nations."

"I..." 

"Besides, it's not as if we have to decide this now. Who knows, maybe they will let us take a look."

"Yeah, right," I heard Riley mutter in the background but could only stare at my other friend.

"You were a criminal?"

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide2_zpsa756ab9f.jpg.html)

Ian Howe. He really is something else.

We're back in the civilization in the form of a nice, warm hotel room and he's about to tell me about his past. For this discussion we have no witnesses.

He offers me a tumbler filled with soft brown liquor and I wonder my own ease in his company. He could be telling me that he is a murderer for all I know and still I feel... safe.

"I don't want this to sound like a typical sob story," he begins, smiling self-deprecatingly. "But I never knew my parents. I met Shaw in the orphanage. I got adopted, he didn't. I went to the best schools, he learned in the streets. When we met again, I was in the position to hire him. I had discovered I quite liked money, and the security it offered, but was... frustrated with the more acceptable ways of acquiring it. I soon realised I had certain aptitude to organising, and if the operations I organised were of questionable legality... well, I only took from people who could afford to lose money. Not from any idealistic reason but because it made sense from the business side. I set myself a goal, the amount of money I needed to get to be able to retire and pursue... other interests, more... legal in nature. We reached that, left the old country behind, came to the States and started new lives."

He takes a sip out of his glass, and turns to meet my eyes for the first time.

"I've never killed anyone," he finishes, "nor have I asked my men to do it. That is not how I operate."

"I believe you," I say, and I do. 

"Thank you. I... find that matters."

"Not killing?"

"That too," he says, smiling. "But I meant... what you think of me."

Oh.

"Oh."

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/003ponderingian_zps8da42edd.jpg.html)

It doesn't really change anything. I always knew Ian had more to him than meets the eye. Well, now I know some of it, and... It causes mixed feelings, I have to admit. So he was a criminal and never punished for it. The money financing this operation was probably earned breaking the law. Not necessarily though, because he has obviously made it as a legit businessman this side of the pond.

He is also my friend, and the first person to really believe in me. So am I going to let him steal the Declaration of Independence for me? Or am I going to have him arrested for what he did in the past? 

What is the right thing to do, and does it factor into my thinking that I'm pretty much falling in love with him? Can I really be objective about this?

Talking to Riley doesn't really help. He can't get over the whole stealing thing.

"We're going to steal the Declaration?" he shouts as I enter his hotel room. 

"A little louder, there, Riley, I don't think they heard you in Alabama."

He just glares at me, and I shrug, grinning. "Borrow it."

"For the good cause. Yeah, right. But you better hope they'll let us take a look at it because stealing it will be impossible."

"So... you'd be willing to try? And go on working with Ian despite all this?"

It's his turn to shrug and I realise all this stuff about Ian's past is not that important to him. Well, as he does not harbour a major crush on the man maybe it makes it more simple. Then again, it does make me wonder about his morality.

"Hey, I go with your lead. If you trust him, I trust him. You knew him first."

Like I said. A big help.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide1_zps719893a3.jpg.html)

I go back to Ian's room. He's still sipping his drink, as if waiting for my judgement.

"What if I said no?" I ask quietly.

He sighs. "I've put a lot of money into this project. I wouldn't like giving up when the obstacles are not insurmountable."

I swallow, fearing what comes next. Is this when he shows me his true colours and proves that I've never been able to read him right? Is this when he turns into a ruthless criminal?

"That said, I don't want to be your enemy," he says softly. "I could leave you behind and do this my way but I believe you would do everything in your power to stop me, and, who knows, you might succeed. You are one of the smartest people I have ever met, and your tenacity rivals my own. We could play cat and mouse all over the country, fighting for the treasure... and either one of us could win. Could be fun." He grins suddenly. "But I still think it would be more fun to do it together. But that requires your acceptance of my past, and, maybe, my methods."

"Have you..." I swallow. "Have you ever broken the law in this country?"

He meets my gaze evenly. "No."

"But you'd do it for this?"

"Yes."

"For me, or for the treasure?" I hear myself asking before I can stop myself, and he grins again.

"Maybe we'll find out."

I study his calm form on the sofa, and pace the room for a moment.

"Okay," I finally say, offering him my hand which he shakes solemnly. 

"Partners," he says.

"Partners," I reply.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide1_zps719893a3.jpg.html)

We still _try_ to get the permission first, of course. Dr Abigail Chase at the National Gallery is the person to talk to, seeing that she's in charge of the document. I go alone, and, well, don't give her my real name. "Gates" has a certain reputation in the historical community, and let's just say... it's not the one I want to bring to her mind.

Not that she takes me seriously as it is. I try to be circumspect about my reasons for wanting to study the document but... Well.

"What do you think you're going to find?" she asks.

"I believe there is an... encryption on the back."

"An encryption, like a code?" she asks, as if from a child.

"Yes, ma'am," I reply decisively.

"Of what?"

"A... cartograph," I prevaricate.

"A map," she translates, easily.

"Yes, ma'am."

"A map of what?"

"The location of ... of hidden items of historic and intrinsic value..." I explain, feeling more foolish by the minute. I suppose this is why I didn't want Ian to come with me, to see me appear like an idiot.

"A treasure map?" Dr Chase asks, incredulously, and I know I've lost.

"Thanks for your time," I say, getting up, and walking to Riley who's waiting in the lobby.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide1_zps719893a3.jpg.html)

"So... the hot blonde did not want to let you look at it?" Riley asks, just to make sure, and I grimace.

"Didn't think so. So now what? We really gonna steal it?" 

We pause by the Declaration on the way out, and I look at it, weighing my options.

"So many generations chasing for the dream, and here I am, three feet away from the possible solution..." I swallow. Am I really going to betray everything I believe in just for my obsession?

It would be so easy to close my eyes and let Ian do this for me. But if I'm going to do this, I'm going to do this myself.

"Yes," I tell Riley with a firm voice. "We're gonna steal it."

And damn the consequences. Am I really doing the right thing? I believe the treasure has much to give to the nation and the world. And it's not like we're taking it _permanently_ , we're just... borrowing it.

But I know that's just an excuse. Somewhere inside I can feel the sense of adventure raise its head, the recklessness take hold, and I'm actually looking forward to matching my wits against the people in charge of the security here. 

It seems I should question my own morality, too.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide1_zps719893a3.jpg.html)

We have a meeting in my place.

Riley speaks first.

"It can't be done – not that it shouldn't be done. It can't be done."

Ian just grins, and I get a bad feeling.

"No," I say. "We can't go in guns blazing. We need to... we need to be more subtle."

"How did you know what I was about to suggest?" Ian asks, raising his eyebrow, and I grin at him.

"I know how your mind works. You like the direct approach."

"It would be simple," he explains.

"And how many of your men would die in the conflict? How many security cameras would be filming us and making all the rest of the operation that much more difficult? The Declaration won't be the end of it, Ian. Just like the _Charlotte_. It's just the next clue. There will be more, that's why the riddle is referring to the Silence Dogood letters."

"Well, we have copies of those," he remarks, waving at the general direction of the printouts on my desk.

"Yeah, but how do we know how many clues will follow? How much longer we need to go on searching? I'd prefer not doing that with the Feds hot on our trail, thank you very much. And I really, really, don't want to go to jail at the end of this."

"Well, that might not be something we can avoid, seeing as we are stealing a national treasure," Ian reminds me, smiling. "But maybe, if we find the treasure, they'll be willing to reduce the sentence."

"Guys," Riley interjects. "We still need to get that damn piece of paper. And we're no closer."

"Parchment," I mutter distractedly, getting somewhat lost in Ian's smiling eyes.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide1_zps719893a3.jpg.html)

Our brilliant minds combined, we find a way. Of course we do. The plan makes use of the National Archives Anniversary Gala, Riley's technical skills and Dr Chase's collection of George Washington's campaign buttons, among other things. And I get to play James Bond. Ian doesn't like it, of course.

"Your part is the most dangerous," he says.

"Well, yes. But... if I do this, I really, really need to do this myself. It's hard as it is."

"Fine. But on the first sign of trouble, you get out and we go for plan B."

"We have plan B?" Riley asks, and I nod at Ian's men cleaning their guns in the background.

"Oh."

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide1_zps719893a3.jpg.html)

It's insane. So many things could go wrong. Earlier today we made sure the Declaration was removed from the display case by tricking the sensors. Then Riley hacked into the security systems and he and Ian keep an eye on the security cameras in a van parked on the other side of the street while I get into the building with the aid of a fake ID and dressed as a janitor but with a tux under the overalls, mingling with the quests.

Next I need to trick Dr Chase into giving me her finger prints. Check. Though I fear my nervousness has made her suspicious.

"Come on, Romeo... Move on," Riley's voice commands via the tiny mic.

I'm in, grab the case... Why are there no guards? Apparently I spoke aloud because Ian answers.

"Well..."

"Ian..."

"I had to let the boys do something," he explains unrepentantly.

His boys. Who are at the moment waiting, armed, in a vehicle in front of the building just in case they are needed. This could go so wrong...

"Got it," I report, hurriedly screwing open the bolts in the case covering the Declaration.

"Good work. Now get out."

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/NEW_Bond_zps29b60f2b.jpg.html)

"There was a... problem," I say, as I reach the red van.

"Yeah?" Riley encourages.

"The lady at the gift shop thought this was a poster. And I didn't have enough cash."

"No..." That's Ian, obviously guessing what's coming.

"Yes, I had to pay with Visa, and that Chase woman was suspicious of my presence as it is, and..."

"...and you don't think your little toast had anything to do with her suspicion?" Riley asks, then freezes. 

We follow his gaze to the woman descending the stairs, approaching us.

"Well done, Gates, well done," says Ian.

"I know. They've discovered the theft. I... don't think we can go to my place, after all."

"Shit," says Riley. "Where to, then?" 

"I don't care, just... we have to get out."

"Get in the van, fool," Ian demands, and I hear Dr Chase starting to shout for security.

Damn.

Then, as if in slow motion, I see Viktor (or Paul, or MacGregor – I still can't tell them apart) stepping out from the other van to pull her in.

"Not good, not good..."

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide1_zps719893a3.jpg.html)

We need to stop to hold a meeting to figure out where we are going as obviously we can't go to my place after that little credit card transaction.

"And just who might you be?" Ian enquires politely from Dr Chase.

"Ian, meet Dr Chase."

"Oh, her. Why did you have to bring her along?" he enquires, equally politely, from his men.

"She was attracting too much attention, and we was told not to waste anyone," Viktor explains.

"Are you all right?" I ask from the lady.

"No! Those lunatics.."

"You're not hurt are you?" I check.

"You're all lunatics!" 

"Are you hungry?"

"What?"

"Are-you-all-right?" 

"Who are you people?" she demands, trying to grab the carrying tube I placed the Declaration in.

"Ben... We can't take her along," Ian says.

"Ben? I thought you were Paul Brown."

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Ben Gates."

"Gates... Oh no," she gasps.

"I see my reputation exceeds me."

She has opinions about me, my family, our company, our actions, and she just refuses to shut up about everything. I can't think when she goes on like that.

"I'm starting to reconsider that 'no wasting' policy," Ian mutters, rubbing his forehead. 

"Don't tempt me," I mutter back.

"Ben, you know what you have to do," Riley says, the surprising voice of reason.

"I know what I have to do, I'm just trying to think of anything else we could do."

"Come on, Ben, it didn't take you this long to decide to steal the damn thing," Ian says.

"Yeah, but I didn't think I was gonna personally have to tell my dad about it."

"Oh for God's... Did you have to tell her where we are going?"

"Oh... damn."

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/002meetingdadkuvitus_zpse62730b6.jpg.html)

So. We're stuck with one Abigail Chase. She's determined to not let the Declaration out of her eyes, and at least she's quiet for a change. Ian takes his men and promises to come and get us in a new car from my dad's in a few hours, so it's only me, Riley, and Abigail at my dad's door.

Riley did suggest we'd duct tape her mouth and leave her in the car but I know she's curious enough by now to go with it. 

Dad lets us in but refuses to have anything to do with whatever we're doing and dodges my questions about the original Silence Dogood letters.

He has lemons, though, which makes this that much easier, even though I think wistfully about our  
little home made lab in my apartment. As we uncover sign Dr Chase is as invested in the whole thing as I am, and I wish Ian was here to share the discovery with us.

Riley takes notes, and soon we have a string of numbers and lots of squeezed lemons. I offer them to Riley who complains about being hungry but he refuses less than politely. 

Dad has gravitated closer by the time there is another knock on the door. I freeze – could it be the cops already? 

“It's me!” Ian shouts, obviously realising what we're bound to think.

“More of your merry band?” dad enquires, resigned.

I ignore him and open the door, and a part of my anxiety disappears at the sight of Ian. I didn't like him being out of my sight when the Feds are more than likely already hunting me. Yeah, okay, I just don't like him being out of my sight, period.

“Shaw said men in black raided your apartment,” he says, quietly, but my dad is close enough to hear.

“What the hell have you done, Ben?”

“You didn't tell him?”

“He didn't want to know.”

“Smart man. Did you get the letters?”

“Not yet. Dad, this is really important...”

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/NEW_lemons_zps6d8e50ad.jpg.html)

Of course dad doesn't have the damn letters any more. That would be convenient, after all. So, we squeeze into the car Ian brought and settle down for a drive to Philadelphia. Ian is driving our car, his men are staying behind to keep an eye on things. I prefer to not think about the guns they are bound to carry and how ugly this whole thing could get if the Feds try to stop us.

I sit on the front seat, leaving the back seat for Riley and Abigail. At least the latter isn't sulking anymore, and I find I'm a little surprised by the sense of adventure she seems to possess. Maybe having her along won't be so bad...

"I think you should change clothes," Ian says. "You two look a bit... conspicuous."

"I would love to go shopping but what about money?" Riley complains from the back seat.

"Some of us plan ahead and always carry cash," Ian reassures him and even though he doesn't stress the “some” in “some of us” unduly I still cringe over the whole credit card fiasco. 

But of course this isn't enough to stop Riley complaining. I swear, sometimes the man is the annoying little brother I never wanted. 

"When are we gonna get there. I'm hungry.”

"You should have eaten the lemons when we offered them to you," I tell him.

"Lemons?" Ian asks.

"You sure he didn't?" Abigail mutters, sounding like a sulky teenager to Riley's sulky kid. 

"Is this what it's like to have kids?" I ask Ian.

"Well, I'm the money, so you're the mother," Ian replies.

"Gave all my best years to you, and look at my figure now."

"This car smells weird," Riley interjects.

"Fine, next time you get rid of the evidence and acquire a ride, Mr Poole, how about it?"

"As long as you deal with his dad," Riley mutters, not caring about the tightness in Ian's tone.

“We being followed?” I ask, noting the way he keeps glancing in the mirror.

“Not as far as I can tell. Your father knows where we are going, though, but even if he tells them that at least he can't tell them what kind of a car we drive.”

“You think they've found him this fast?”

“They're the government, Ben.”

“And even if he doesn't tell them anything they must have seen the scans at my place,” I realise.

Fuck. After all my lectures to Ian, I am the one who got the Feds on our tail from the first moment.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide2_zpsa756ab9f.jpg.html)

We decide to divide and conquer when we reach Philly – Abigail and I need less conspicuous clothes, and we couldn't be seen at the Franklin Institute anyway, my name and face must be red flagged from border to border, and Riley and Ian must be down as my known associates by now.

“I'll think of something,” Ian says. “Here, honey, buy yourself something pretty.”

I take the cash he had the forethought to carry and – it must be the on-going family banter but I really want to kiss him when we part. 

Riley tags along with me and Abigail, leaving Ian to visit the Institute alone. Well, he can't actually visit the Institute but I have no doubt he can find someone to look at the letters for us. We agree to meet at the car as soon as we are done.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/kuvitus05_zps5a2d406a.jpg.html)

"The vision to see the treasured past comes as the timely shadow crosses in front of the house of Pass and Stow," Ian quotes in lieu of a greeting.

Riley has his laptop out, and Ian is about to type something in when he says, “You can't use Yahoo! They're like the evil incarnate." He types in google's address.

"And Google isn't?" Ian asks.

"Just... go with it," I say. Besides, I already know what the clue means. “Or not, because Pass and Stow is a reference to the Liberty Bell.”

“Why do you have to do that?” Riley asks, and shows me the google hit he got. 

“But what about the 'timely shadow?'” Abigail asks.

"Time, we need a time... Oh, you're gonna love this. Ian, gimme another 100 dollar bill."

"You are very expensive, Ben," he says, but digs out his wallet without demanding any further explanation and I've loved that about him from the beginning. 

I grab the water bottle Abigail has been drinking from with a muttered apology and use it as a magnifying lens to read the time in the clock tower on the bill.

“2:22.”

I check the time and curse. 

“We missed that.”

“No we didn't,” Riley instantly says. Then, “Wait, I know something about history you don't know? Wow, is this how you feel like all the time? Except now, of course.”

“Riley!” Abigail, Ian, and I bark at the same time and he visibly recoils.

“Okay, okay! Daylight savings time!”

Of course! I can't believe I didn't think of that. We're getting back into the car while Riley is still explaining and Ian drives us as close to our target as we can get. At least the regular tour filled with tourists is a good cover. 

I find a masonic symbol in the wall where the shadow hits and, removing a brick, find a case that I take indoors to where the others are waiting for me.

"Kinda like early American X-ray specs," Riley says when he sees the coloured lenses.

"Benjamin Franklin invented something like these," Abigail points out.

"Uhh... I think he invented these," I have to say, and the little history nerd inside me is jumping up and down. I am holding Ben Franklin's invention in my hand!

And, well, carrying the damn Declaration of Independence on my back but that is way too huge to ponder right now. 

Ian helps me extract the Declaration and I fumble the glasses on. 

“Heere at the wall,” I read aloud, and of course Riley is the first to comment.

"Why can't they just say, 'Go to this place, and here's the treasure, spend it wisely'?"

I'm about to snark back when Ian says “Oh no,” looking out of the window. I follow his gaze and see something that looks remarkably like a “man in black.”

"Oh no what?" Riley asks.

"Those men are Federal agents," Ian says.

"How do you know?" Abigail asks.

"They have that look. Trust me.”

"How did they find us?" 

"They're the government, they have nearly unlimited resources."

“We have to separate,” I decide. “We have the best chance that way. I'll take the tube, so they'll hopefully follow me. You take the Declaration,” I say, handing it to Abigail, thinking that at least we can try to claim that in her hands it is at least partly official. I hand the glasses to Riley.

“I'll get us a new car, just in case,” Ian says. “But I'll come pick you up from where we left the other car.”

“Don't get caught, don't get killed, and what ever you do – don't lose the Declaration or the glasses!”

Ian stops me at the door. 

"Ben... be careful."

"You too. All of you."

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide2_zpsa756ab9f.jpg.html)

I pick up the agents on my trail as planned but they prove to be more difficult to shake than I expected. This is not going to end well.

And it doesn't.

As the agents are handcuffing me against our own car I see Riley and Abigail peeking out from behind a corner. Good, they are free at least. I hope Ian is too. 

If I can stall the federal investigation for long enough, they can follow the clues to the treasure without me.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/kuvitus07_tekstitoumln_zps29e0d4d0.jpg.html)

The federal agent in charge of the case is called Peter Sadusky. He's looking at me blankly from behind a desk while I explain my family's relationship with the Templar treasure, and what we found on the back of the Declaration of Independence.

I skipped the bit where we stole it, not wanting to incriminate myself or the others but not really knowing how to explain it otherwise. Or how to take all the blame myself.

“That's some story,” Sadusky says, non-committally. 

“Yep.”

“But you neglected to mention the part where you stole the Declaration, with the aid of Dr Chase, Mr Poole, and...”

“No. Doctor Chase had nothing to do with it.”

“But Mr Poole did?”

“I didn't say that.”

"So here are your options,” he goes on as if I hadn't interrupted. “Door number one, you go to prison for a very long time. Door number two, we are going to get back the Declaration of Independence, you help us find it, and you still go to prison for a very long time, but you feel better inside."

"Is there a door that doesn't lead to prison?"

"Someone's got to go to prison, Ben." And, yeah, I guess I've known that from the beginning. Is finding the treasure worth that? Assuming I can distract Sadusky long enough for the others to find it.

"Yeah," I say, in the end.

“Sir, it looks like this 'Ian Howe' could be a false identity," one of Sadusky's people says and damn, I knew they'd know about Ian but this sounds bad. If they can connect him to past crimes I don't even need to implicate him in the theft of the Declaration to get him in trouble.

"Follow up with ATF and INS," Sadusky says just as my phone starts ringing on the table in front of us.

"Standard tap procedure," he says, and hands me the phone.

"Yes?" I reply, holding it next to my ear with my handcuffed hands.

"Hello, Ben. How are you?" Ian asks softly.

"Um, chained to a desk," I reply, just in case doesn't know about the arrest yet.

"Sorry to hear that,” he says, sounding flippant. He knew about it all right. I wonder what the hell he is playing at.

“I'm sure by now you have told the FBI that you decided to steal the Declaration of Independence to stop me from stealing it, but have now unfortunately failed to keep it from me."

"Ian..." He can't be doing this. I can't let him do this!

"I am equally sure they – and you – would like to have it back. I want you to meet me on the flight deck of the ISS Intrepid. You know where that is?"

"New York." What the hell is Ian thinking? He has to know the call is being recorded – of course he does, he wouldn't have said the things he does otherwise.

"Meet me there at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. And bring those glasses you found at Independence Hall. Yeah, I know about the glasses. We can take a look at the Declaration, and then you can be on your way."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" I ask, playing along because what the hell else can I do?

"I told you from the start, I only wanted to borrow it. You can have it. And the glasses. I'll even throw in the pipe from the _Charlotte_."

Every word he says paints the picture of us on opposing sides and I want to call him on it, but I can't, I can't waste his self-sacrificing rescue effort. I won't let his stupid heroics be in vain.

I look at Sadusky who nods. They're buying it. And they're going to let me play bait.

"I'll be there," I promise.

"And tell the FBI agents listening in on this call, if they want the Declaration back, and not just a box of confetti, then you'll come alone."

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/kuvitus08_zpsee71a6d4.jpg.html)

My being alone is an illusion, and Ian must know it. I must be under surveillance from all sides, and Sadusky is talking to me through a wire. I try spotting the agents, all the while wondering how Ian is going to handle this.

"You know, Agent Sadusky, something I've noticed about fishing: it never works out so well for the bait," I say, just to keep Sadusky's attention on me.

Suddenly there is a commotion as a sightseeing chopper is approaching the ship and the Feds turn their attention to it. That's way too obvious for Ian, though. 

At least I hope it's way too obvious for Ian, but it has been a few years at least since he last arranged an operation of "questionable legality" so maybe he's a little rusty.

"Gates, are you with me?" Sadusky asks.

"Well, I'm sure not against you if that's what you're asking," I reply. And I never considered myself to be. After all, we were always planning to return the Declaration.

Then Shaw is next to me, seemingly concentrating on his video camera and not even looking at me.

"Hello, Ben."

The chopper flies closer to the deck and suddenly all I can hear from my mike is white noise. There's obviously something interfering with it. Now this is more like it.

“Go to the starboard observation point behind the F-16,” Shaw begins his instructions.

After he's done explaining everything I walk towards the stern to the observation deck.

"Sadusky, I'm still not against you. But I found door number three, and I'm taking it."

And then I dive off the deck, hoping like hell Shaw was not kidding.

I wouldn't have needed to worry. I've not been submerged for long when a strong hand grips my leg and pulls me towards a spare nozzle a diver is holding. Ian planned this perfectly.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Chapterdivide2_zpsa756ab9f.jpg.html)

"Hello, Ben." It's Shaw again, helping me out of the water. "Welcome to New Jersey."

Viktor hands me dry clothes from the back of their car. It seems Ian called in the reinforcements.

"I hope these fit. We had to guess your sizes,” Shaw explains, and I wouldn't even give a damn as long as they are dry.

Abigail and Riley are waiting for me in the back seat of the car.

"Hi, sweetie, how's your day going?" Abigail asks, smiling innocently.

"Uh, interesting," I reply. “What the hell were you thinking?”

"Turns out helping someone escape from the FBI custody is a criminal act,” Abigail explains. “And, as Ian pointed out, he's the only criminal we know."

“But now he's the bad guy!”

"He already was,” Shaw says from the driver's seat. “He's the one with least to lose by coming out as a crook.”

There's not much I can say to that.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/00grin_zps831d82d8.jpg.html)

"Ben! You all right? No broken bones? A jump like that could kill a man."

"Nah, it was cool. You should try it sometime,” I say, grinning, happy to see Ian again even as I want to strangle him for what he did. 

"Abigail said we should meet at the corner of Broadway and Wall Street, why?" he asks.

"The next clue, 'Heere at the wall.' We need to go into the Trinity Church."

We turn towards the building when I see something that makes me stop.

“Ian... what is my dad doing in here?”

“Apparently he figured out you'd be in Philadelphia, and decided he'd follow you in case you needed help. And apparently either Abigail or Riley decided to tell him where we'd be heading next. I can ask Viktor to take care of him if you'd like?”

"Ian..."

"Take care, Ben, not 'take care'."

"I knew that."

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/kuvitus11_zps4e7ce14d.jpg.html)

I take the specs and the Declaration from Riley and Abigail and sit down in one of the pews with Ian.

“I want to try something,” I explain, and try looking at the back of the Declaration through the different coloured lenses of the glasses.

"That's, uhh, it's really quite something. It's remarkable, take a look."

"Parkington Lane," Ian reads.

"Beneath Parkington Lane," I correct, moving the lenses in front of his eyes.

"Why would the map lead us here, then take us somewhere else? What's the purpose?"

"Just another clue," dad says in a long-suffering voice.

"Dad, why are you even here?"

"Fine, I'll shut up."

"You're right," I say, turning to Ian again. "Parkington Lane has to be in here somewhere."

"A street inside a church."

"Not inside. Beneath. Beneath a church."

So then we get to work to find Parkington Lane. It's a good thing Ian brought reinforcements.

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/kuvitus12_zps6ad13168.jpg.html)

"Hey!" Riley shouts. "Hey, I found it. Him."

I follow Ian to where he's standing, pointing at one of the memorial plates on the wall. "Ben?"

"It's a name." And of course there's a damn masonic symbol on top of the name.

"Nothing to it, I suppose. The Feds could be here any minute," Ian says, and nods to his men who bash the stone in to reveal the coffin. I join in to help them get the coffin out, figuring that I am in this up to my neck anyway. 

Unfortunately the coffin has rotted through with age and breaks down, spreading the remains of the poor mason on the floor. 

"Okay, who wants to go down the creepy tunnel inside the tomb first?" Sometimes I am so glad of Riley's habit of sucking out the solemnity of any moment.

"Paul, Viktor, you stay here. If we don't come back in... a reasonable hour, get help. Hell, get the Feds," Ian says, smiling. "We're likely beyond caring, then."

He turns to me, still smiling. "Shall we?"

[](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/Kuvitus13_zps785faf2c.jpg.html)

Luckily, the tunnel gets bigger soon after the tomb and there are torches on the wall. I grab one and hold it while Ian lights it.

The way is hazardous though, the wooden structure squeaking and groaning under our weight, and suddenly the stairs are breaking down and I can just see Shaw fall through the wood before anyone of us can do anything.

“Shaw!” There's shock and pain in Ian's voice, but there's nothing anyone can do, the drop is so long we can't even see the bottom.

For the first time I doubt whether this is all worth it. Going to prison maybe, but someone's life? Someone close to Ian? 

"Ian... is it worth it?" I ask quietly when he makes to move on.

"We've come this far. We go on," he says, decidedly, and who am I to disagree? I kinda want to hug him though, the excitement of adventure has disappeared from his face, replaced by a haunted look of loss. He knew Shaw since they were kids, and now my stupid treasure hunt has caused his death.

"I really don't want to go back this way," Riley says, and I want to hug him, too, grateful for that solemnity-shattering power he has.

We find a wooden elevator that still looks sturdy enough to carry us down, and Ian and I help everyone on board before jumping in ourselves. The way down is longer than even I expected. Poor Shaw never had a chance.

At the bottom of the shaft we find... an empty room.

An Empty room with a single lantern.

"This is it? We came all this way for a dead end?" Riley shouts.

I refuse to get disheartened, though. Surely it wouldn't end like this. 

"Is it another clue?" Abigail asks.

"What is here, the lantern?" Ian suggests.

"No, the walls. 'Through the all seeing eye.' I think we're done with the clues. Riley, you'll be happy to hear there is another way out."

"Where?"

"Through the treasure room."

I press a hidden knob and a part of the wall comes loose. Ian and Riley move closer to help push it open, and then we can see through the opening into another, wider room... that is empty, with only dust and broken pieces of furniture on the ground.

"Looks like someone got here first," Riley deduces, dejected.

"I'm sorry, Ben," Abigail says, quietly.

"It's gone," I say, looking around me. "It may have even been gone before Charles Carroll told the story to Thomas Gates."

"Listen, Ben..." Ian says, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"It doesn't matter," dad says, suddenly.

"I know. Because you were right," I say, dully. 

"No, I wasn't right. This room is real, Ben. And that means the treasure is real. We're in the company of some of the most brilliant minds in history because you found what they left behind for us to find and understood the meaning of it. You did it, Ben. For all of us. Your grandfather, and all of us. And I've never been so happy to be proven wrong."

"I just... really though I was gonna find the treasure." I say, not ready to take pleasure in being right for its own sake quite yet.

"Okay, then we just keep looking for it," dad says, and when the hell did he get so optimistic about all of this?

"I'm in," Ian says, and even Abigail nods.

"Okay," I say, smiling just a little. After all, when did I turn into the pessimist of the group? 

And even as I think that, like magic... "Not to be Johnny Rain Cloud here, but that's not gonna happen. Because as far as I can see, we're still looking at that wooden contraption as our only way back up. So, Ben, where's this other way out?"

"That's what makes no sense,” I say, thinking again instead of merely reacting. “The first thing the workers would have done when they got down here would be to cut a secondary airway to the surface, in case of a cave in...”

With new energy we all start looking at the walls again, and this time I find some structures we had missed in our earlier disappointment. Round, metal rings with holes in them, in the shape of...

"Could it really be that simple? Ian, have you got the pipe?" 

He hands it to me, and I take it apart. “The secret lies with Charlotte," I quote, and slot the parts into the wall. 

The pipe's two parts fit the metal ring like a key, and again there is an opening in the wall. We advance more cautiously this time, and came to a halt when we emerged in a huge, huge, room filled with... everything.

There's gold, shining in the light of the lantern, Egyptian statues line the walls next to where we're standing; there are scrolls, jewellery, weapons, suits of armour, jars, jugs... and when I use the torch to light the in-built lighting system... even more of the same, almost as far as the eye can see.

It's treasure that only a small kid could imagine, except bigger and better.

"Riley... are you crying?"

"Look, stairs."

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/kuvitus14_tekstitoumln_segoescriptbold_zps81b313e3.jpg.html)

There's a petrified caretaker examining the remains of the mason we excavated when I emerge from the tomb a little way from where we went in.

"Hi," I say, politely. "Do you have a cell phone I could borrow?"

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/NEWalttarilla_zps81ab968f.jpg.html)

I'm sitting by the altar, holding the Declaration in its carrying case when Sadusky arrives. I convinced everyone to let me do the talking. I want to keep Riley, Abigail and my father out of everything if at all possible. I'd have preferred to keep Ian out of it, too, but he already exposed himself to danger.

All the more reason for me to want him to stay out of this discussion.

Agent Sadusky walks towards me with a blank expression that, irreverently, makes me thing of poker. I'd pay a lot of money to see Ian and Sadusky face off over a green table.

As soon as the agent reaches me, I get up and hand him the rolled up Declaration of Independence.

"Just like that?" he asks.

"Just like that."

"You do know you just handed me your biggest bargaining chip?"

"The Declaration of Independence is not a bargaining chip. Not to me."

"Have a seat." We sit down on the stairs.

"So what's your offer?" 

"How about a bribe? Say... Ten billion dollars?"

"I take it you found the treasure." He doesn't even sound surprised, the bastard.

"It's about five stories beneath your shoes."

"You know, the Templars and the Freemasons believed that the treasure was too great for any one man to have, not even a king. That's why they went to such lengths to keep it hidden."

"That's right," I say, looking at the masonic ring on his finger. Of course he doesn't sound surprised. "The Founding Fathers believed the same thing about the government. I figured their solution will work for the treasure too."

"Give it to the people," he translates.

"Divide it amongst the Smithsonian, the Louvre, the Cairo museum... There's thousands of years of world history down there. And it belongs to the world and everybody in it."

"You really don't understand the concept of a bargaining chip," Sadusky chides me.

"Okay, here's what I want. Dr Chase gets off completely clean, not even a little post it on her service record."

"Okay."

"I want the credit for the find to go to the entire Gates family, with the assistance of Mr Riley Poole, Mr Shaw..." Damn, I can't remember their full names. Ian will give me a list. Ian... I can't really mention his name, now can I. "I'll get you a list."

"What about you?"

"I'd really love not to go to prison. I can't even begin to describe how much I would love not to go to prison."

"Someone's got to go to prison, Ben," Sadusky says, almost gently, still smiling.

"That would be me, then," Ian says, stepping into the light behind us. "Seeing as I am the only criminal here."

I'm up, taking a step towards him before I can even think but Agent Sadusky stops me. 

"Mr Ian Howe, I presume. Or should that be John Hill?"

"At your service. And seeing as it was my original threat that made Mr Gates here steal the Declaration, and, furthermore, I am the one who broke him out of your custody... I'd say the choice is clear." His voice is calm, and he keeps his eyes on the agent.

I pull my arm free from Sadusky's hold and take the few steps to stand in front of Ian.

"You can't do this, I won't let you do this!"

"I just did," Ian says, gently, raising his hand to cup my face.

"I guess we found out, huh?" he says, before stepping away from me, and holding his hands in front of him, waiting to be cuffed.

It takes me a moment to catch Ian's reference as a reply to the question I asked not so long ago – but damn, it felt like eternity – after the _Charlotte_. Was Ian going to break the law for the treasure – or for me?

If convicted, he will get no profit of the treasure to himself.

"No." It feels like an effort to get the word out.

Ian turns to look back at me, and I march up to him and pull his head towards me with two hands, kissing him with more passion and desperation than any first kiss has any right to have. His arms wind around me, and he opens his mouth to the kiss with no hesitation. 

I pull out of the kiss, lips already sore but missing the contact, and rest my forehead against his.

"I love you," I say, my angriest declaration of love ever. 

"Oh Ben," Ian says, like so many times before, as if scolding me. "Why do you think I'm doing this?"

I blink my suddenly dusty eyes. I didn't weep over the treasure beneath us, I'll be damned if I weep over this one.

"What's the charge?" I ask, forehead still against Ian's, a hand in his hair keeping him in place. "It's not like you went public with the theft of the Declaration."

"Kidnapping, for one," Sadusky says.

"You can't kidnap someone who's willing."

"Ben..."

"What if the criminal behind everything is dead?" a new voice joins in on the conversation.

"McGregor..." Ian's voice is threatening.

"No, boss, listen. You think Shaw would care? He'd be ecstatic to be the criminal mastermind. And he would be happy if his death served a purpose. Do you think he wouldn't have laid his life to save you? Then why not his death?"

Ian looks forbidding, but Agent Sadusky turns to McGregor with alacrity I notice. It seems the mason isn't too willing to put Ian behind bars either.

"I'm listening," he says.

"I can't allow this," Ian says, quietly but with conviction.

"Shaw would most likely have died for you if needed," McGregor argues.

"And that would have been his choice to make," Ian points out.

"His death was pointless."

"But at least his name is clean."

"What, it's his real name?" I ask dryly, and Ian's eyes widen in sudden wonder. 

His lips curl into a smile slowly. "You, my dear, are a genius."

[ ](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/niki_chidon/media/National%20Treasure/NEWalttarilla2_zps24b8e8d4.jpg.html)

So, no one went to prison, after all. The mastermind behind the whole operation was dead and retrieving his body was of lesser importance to the authorities than securing the treasure.

Luckily a part of my deal with the authorities was naming me, my father, and Abigail caretakers for the said treasure, which means that if said resources needed to be allocated into finding the body of our fallen comrade, then...

The funeral is beautiful, if small. You can't put a body on trial, after all, and there's no reason for anyone to think that the Shaw (Shaw Wood) who carried the blame was the same Shaw (Henry Shaw) who is mentioned in the list of founders for the treasure.

Ian will probably never be fully okay with that, but as it saved him – and me – from prison, he will just have to live with it.

Riley claims he's going to be forever grateful for this, as well, since I would have settled for one percent finder's fee for the treasure – divided between all of us. Luckily for him, Ian was there to interfere and talked me into accepting one percent each. It's still less than the ten percent first offered. 

Still, it's not like Riley can drive more than one Ferrari at a time. And Abigail really only needs one mansion. And dad... well. He and I would probably just have been happy if allowed to spend our days cataloguing the treasure.

Museum curators around to world are suddenly singing our praises and clamour for the privilege of having us over for the openings and galas and exhibitions. I can't say I'm too keen until Ian reminds me of what is important.

"What happened to rubbing it in their arrogant faces, Ben?"


End file.
